CONCORD. 
At daybreak I heard Fox Sparrovirs chirping all about 
the new cabin, in which I spent the night. They were evidently 
the birds seen last evening on their way back across the 
river, for on my way to the station I found them in the 
hollow filled with willows just beyond the pine grove be¬ 
hind the stone boat-house. There were about a dozen Tree 
Sparrows and five or six Juncos with them. All three 
species were singing, and the Fox and Tree Sparrows were 
at their very best. The rich contralto voices of the former 
and the wild, sweet notes of the latter constantly inter¬ 
mingled, and at times five or six birds of each species 
were singing at once. The Juncos did their best to make 
themselves heard, also, but their weak trills were scarce 
audible. It was the finest thing of the kind that I have 
heard for years, and I lingered so long listening that I 
nearly lost my train. 
There were Song Sparrows and Red-wings singing on 
my land, too, but I scarce noticed them. Earlier in the 
morning I heard a Flicker shouting in the direction of 
Hobbs®s Camp. It is singular how much later they are in 
their arrival here than in the Cambridge Region. Perhaps 
the birds we hear near Cambridge in March are our winter 
residents and not migrants just up from the South, as is 
commonly supposed. 
Jl 
